the sweetest con [d.m]

nineteen

Mavi stands by the grave, trembling like a leaf in a storm.

She wants to be brave, wants to take a page out of Draco's book and seem unfazed by everything that's happening — but she's always felt too much and she's never learned how to hide it and so it spills over her edges and leaves her with trembling hands and shallow breathing.

Deiji is beside her, clutching her hand as Aurors cast spells over the grave beside the one she'd been buried in just over a week ago. They've covered it up already, having finished their work with it — and Mavi shudders at just the sight of the newly packed earth. She could've been buried under that right now. She could've been dead.

Deiji seems to notice her reaction because she squeezes her hand, offering her a weak smile. Mavi tries to give one back and turns her attention back to the grave beside the one that was almost hers.

She can't explain the dread that has been sitting in her gut since she came to in the hospital. She can't explain the hurt she feels, the anger, the disbelief. It's all mangled up in her chest, feeling like a weight with every breath she takes, a knife in her stomach every time she tries to hold it.

And now, here she is, moments away from confronting all those emotions. Moments away from finally solving a decade-long mystery. Moments away from finding out whether or not Merrick Aumutage was telling the truth.

Moments away from finding out if Ilayda Sultan has always lain here underneath Venna Lakes with nothing but the sparkling water of the lake and the quiet songs of the birds in the trees to keep her company.

Draco stands directly opposite Mavi, on the other side of the grave. He's dressed casually today — tight black t-shirt, black sweats. His hair gleams in the sun beating down on them, hands tucked into his pockets.

He looks beautiful — and rugged in a way Mavi has never seen him. She can make out the veins spanning down his forearms, the muscle ticking in his jaw. The muscles shifting underneath his t-shirt as he lifts a hand to run it through the back of his hair, silver eyes fixed on the Aurors currently removing the soil.

Seeing him hurts — but she wants him here. She can't do this alone — and she's glad for both Deiji and Draco's presence. Both Nadia and Idris had fought to be here — but it'd been strictly against protocol and so they'd stayed back.

A murmur breaks out through the Aurors as they guide more soil aside, revealing a flash of white. Bone.

Mavi's heart drops immediately, nausea sweeping over her — and she has to turn away. Has to turn her face into Deiji's shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut.

Anne, she wants to sob. Please don't let it be you. Please. It can't be you.

Ilayda Sultan, with her soft songs and gentle hands, didn't deserve this. Didn't deserve a death as gruesome and as brutal as the one she may have been delivered — if Aumutage wasn't lying.

Don't let it be her, Mavi begs, finding it difficult to breathe. Please don't let it be her. Not Anne. Not mine. It can't be her.

Mavi has always been a soft-hearted individual — but right now, she's never felt more selfish. Because all she wishes is that this is someone else. Someone else's mother, father, sister, brother, spouse. Anyone else's. Just not her mother. Not hers.

And then, Deiji murmurs, her voice wrought with emotion, "Mavi."

She makes a strangled sound in response, still turned away and Deiji grips her shoulders, gently drawing back.

"We need to identify the body," her friend says, almost apologetically. She says we — but Mavi knows she means you.

Steeling herself, Mavi draws back her shoulders and forces in a couple breaths. They all wait for her, patiently, as she gathers herself — and several moments later, she turns and trudges towards the grave.